01/23/2014

On Joining the Club

It used, I think, to happen a great deal, when one didn’t get called on however often one’s hand went up in a question period until finally at the end one could say something and it was completely misunderstood and dismissed.--Anne J Jacobson "Am I Dead"

I don’t want to belong to any club that would accept me as one of its members.--G. Marx.

Variants on the phenomenon that Prof. Jacobson describes above have happened to me, too, quite a bit before April 10, 2005. I say this not to deny that there is no sexism (and racism, etc.), but rather to reflect on the fact that among men there are also huge status differences within professional philosophy. As I have recounted elsewhere (here and here), while I have always had privileged jobs (by academic and non-academic standards), I had a slow start publishing and found it hard to land my first tenure track position. In addition to the phenomenon described above, once I left the safety of my own PhD program, I have been invisible at the so-called APA Smoker (if you don't know what that is, be grateful for small mercies) to my own placement director; I have had graveyard shift sessions (i.e., the last one on the final day) at the APA clear out of the whole audience after the talk ahead of me; I had an audience laugh after I get introduced as an Adam Smith expert at my job-talk (they invited me to laugh at me?), etc.

This all changed when my then-colleague, Prof. Dennis Des Chene, asked me to give a talk at a fantastic workshop he hosted in St. Louis. I really didn't want to be at his workshop (I was very upset about being passed over for a position), but Dennis gently prevailed on me. As it happens, by the time of the conference, I had two post-doc offers in hand, and a tenure-track offer at a fantastic department at Syracuse (and a few more offers to come). Dennis made a point of mentioning all of this in the introduction to my talk. The effect was uncanny; it was, as if, I was reborn. (Does that count as a transformative experience, Prof. Paul?)

I can't deny that, perhaps, the only real thing that had changed was my confidence-level and, thus, the attitude that I projected, but I am pretty sure that how I was treated shifted instantly. It's possible that all that happened at the workshop is that folk wanted to express generous, sympathetic joy with my achievement and new-found job-security. Even so, it's as if I could henceforth sit at the 'adult' table. (This is also literally true: at professional events folk I had admired would start to ask me if they could join me for dinner.) Ever since, I have almost never felt on the outside of our club again. But with me on the inside, others are probably not far removed from where I was before (or as Prof. Jacobson recounts, worse off).

Don't get me wrong: even when I felt at the margins of the discipline, 'early modern' seemed like a very nice 'crowd' to be in. None of us are, you know (name your favorite HOTSHOT Philosopher professor here.) Of course, philosophers are human beings, too; as Veblen emphasizes, status matters. In some respects it's long been the most important currency in our trade. (My first publication was about the significance of fame and status in the philosophies of David Hume and Adam Smith.) While I very much enjoy being on the inside of the club and I remain grateful to the many rewards, intellectual and personal, that professional philosophy has directed my way, I have always also been a little bit suspicious toward it since April 10, 2005.

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i love this blogpost and earlier ones like it, Eric. Prestige plays a disproportionate role in our discipline: where to submit (a prestigious journal foremost), whom to hire (someone from a top department), whom to invite as a keynote (a rising star) I know it is like this in general in academia, but I'm wondering if the Matthew effect does not disproportionately play in our discipline?